we're too young to die
by expressionalism
Summary: all good things must come to an end, but they always seem to return to those who wait.


One week. Time is running out.

They make love in complete darkness, but they still see every inch of each other. You'd think with only seven days left, they'd be lost in panicked, frenzied throes of passion. But they aren't; just the opposite really. It's slow and calculated. It doesn't mean they aren't in love, because they are. This is the only thing they can seem to do right. Everything else is lost in a hurricane screaming outside their house made of windows.

"I love you." Sam tells him after they've finished, not sure if Kurt can hear him over the wind.

Sunday is quiet. Kurt sits alone in the kitchen looking out the window, watching the sun rise. Sam, bless his soul, is sleeping in Kurt's room in the basement, snoring loudly.

_Seven days_, Kurt thinks, sighing to himself. There's a cup of coffee in his hand and he wonders why he even has it, because there isn't any cream in the house.

Black coffee reminds him too much of the past. He dumps it down the drain.

...

_Seven days_, he thinks. He descends the stairs and snuggles back up against Sam.

_We're too young to die_.

...

They go to Breadstix on Monday night. It's their usual date location, but Kurt doesn't mind because he knows it's the last time they'll ever come here. They talk about silly things quickly, determined to cover every possible topic in the shortest amount of time.

It's not as if they're really speaking anyway. Nothing of worth is tumbling out either of their mouths. They might as well be silent, it's more honest that way.

Eventually, they do run out of things to talk about, and for a moment, they think they've won. But then it's quiet and reality sinks in on them. Thinking, six days, Sam looks at Kurt with love and pain in his eyes, laced into a single gray ribbon.

"Don't go." he pleads.

Kurt's only reply is a blink of apology and a small, quiet sip of his diet soda.

...

Wednesday they stay in all day and watch Avatar and Star Wars and all of those other dorky sci-fi movies Sam is so in to. The last movie they watch, long past midnight is Avatar. Kurt's seen the movie countless times and Sam even more than that. But Kurt's grown to love it. He'd never tell Sam that, but he does. Sam knows anyway, Kurt can tell from the way he always catches Sam giving him theose small satisfactory glances whenever they watched it.

Kurt takes a deep breath and looks at Sam, who had long ago taught him Na'vi because Kurt had insisted that they needed some sort of codeword talk between them.

Sam's looking at him expectantly, so Kurt just says it. "_Oe can't 'ì'awn si I'm sorry_."

Kurt measures Sam's face for a reaction, thinking, _five days_. Sure enough, hurt displays itself over Sam's face. But there's something else there, something that doesn't belong and had been absent from both of them in a long time; hope.

Hope displays itself in Sam's tone, betraying his eyes. "_Ka lu sorry. Nga yawne lu oer_."

Kurt kisses him and they become one on the couch then and there and stay that way until long past dawn.

...

Sam thinks of graduation day on Wednesday. He thinks of how he and Kurt had tossed their caps up into the air and turned to each other and smiled and exchanged a peck on the lips as the stupid hats fell to the ground. A month later, Kurt told Sam that he had been accepted to the college of his choice and was leaving at the end of summer.

Sam didn't have plans past high school. Compared to Kurt, he felt like nothing. And now, it's the end of summer and Kurt is leaving and Sam is nothing but a tumbleweed destined to be trapped in Lima forever.

"Come with me." Kurt whispers to him that night as they tangle themselves up in each other and Sam's mouth opens to speak. As if to say 'yesokayperfectwonderfulyeslet'sdothat'

Instead, "You know I can't."

"Yeah, I know." is Kurt's reply as he buries his face in Sam's chest.

_Four days_, Sam thinks. _We're too young to die_.

...

There's an end of summer party on Thursday and they go because they have to. Everyone wishes Kurt luck at his school somewhere in New York because Sam never really paid attention when Kurt talked about where it was because he was too busy thinking about how they didn't have any time.

No one at the party tells Sam how sorry they are for him, or wish him luck.

Only Kurt, and he doesn't do it at the party. He does it that night and even then, he doesn't really say it. Sam can just feel it in his kisses, which seem to be slipping through the hourglass.

...

Forty eight hours. Kurt thinks to himself, dumping the fifth cup of black coffee down the drain that week. He makes a promise to himself not to do it tomorrow.

And that's probably an empty promise, but Kurt knows something of those.

...

One day. Kurt broke his stupid promise already. He has a cup of black coffee in his hand and is preparing to dump it down the drain.

"Wait." Sam's voice stops him and Kurt whirls around, a little startled. But then he sees cream in Sam's hand and Kurt's eyes travel up to meet Sam's.

And then he cries.

(The coffee's forgotten, anyway. Down the drain it goes).

...

That night, it's different. For a change, they're desperate, frantic. They leave marks on each other that they'll have for days. Maybe it's because the tornadoes outside of their house of glass only seem to be growing louder and louder, wilder and wilder, or perhaps their too scared of losing each other to the storm.

"We're too young to die." they say to each other as they fall asleep.

...

Kurt kisses him goodbye in the airport and tells Sam he loves him very, very much. Sam says it back, or at least he thinks he does. Moments later, Kurt is gone and Sam is back in his pick up truck and he's sobbing.

He isn't proud of it, but Sam feels as if he has just attended his own funeral.

Sitting at home, Sam looks over an old photo album. He's just finished speaking with Kurt, who called to tell him he had landed safely and '.'

Looking at a silly picture of them Sam grins and places it back in the album before putting it back on the shelf beside his bed.

...

All good things must come to an end, but they always seem to return to those who wait.


End file.
